


Stranger Things

by Mack_the_Spoon



Category: Fringe, In Plain Sight
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-29
Updated: 2011-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-26 17:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mack_the_Spoon/pseuds/Mack_the_Spoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Plain Sight/Fringe crossover. The building where one of Mary's witnesses lives begins experiencing strange phenomena. Who you gonna call? Marshall reckons there may be some FBI agents who have some ideas about how to make her witness safe again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stranger Things

**Author's Note:**

> (I own neither of these shows, nor their respective characters or plots.)  
> For IPS, this story takes place sometime in S3. For Fringe, sometime after "6B".  
> No special knowledge of Fringe is necessary to read this, as both our marshals are getting a bit of an intro, themselves. If you don't know IPS, you should know that Mary and Marshall are partners who work in Witness Protection, and they're darn good at it. More knowledge of the show might be helpful, but is probably not necessary.  
> Thanks to Namarie for the edits.

~~~~~~~

 

Mary blinked and stared, pausing in the process of grabbing her jacket. “You wanna run that by me again?”

Marshall picked his up and continued moving toward the door. “You heard me.”

“I heard you say something about possible ghost activity in my witness' building, but even you couldn't believe something as dumb as that,” she said, catching up to him.

He sighed. “Well, whatever it was, it was serious enough that one of Ashley Stuart's neighbors called the police. So let's save the argument about paranormal phenomena for the way to the scene, shall we?”

“Sure,” Mary muttered, “but I bet we're just going to find some kook who watches too many X-Files reruns.”

Marshall looked pained as he got into the passenger seat. “Are we pretending that you didn't enjoy _The X-Files_ now? I specifically heard you laugh a few times while we were watching the other night.”

“While you were forcing me to watch,” Mary corrected. Then she rolled her eyes as he went on looking miffed. “Fine, I'll admit David Whatshisname is easy on the eyes.”

Marshall shook his head, opened his mouth, and then appeared to give up. They completed the rest of the trip in what might almost be termed a companionable silence. When they arrived, Mary lost no time in finding the lead officer on the scene. “Mary Shepherd with the US Marshals. Can you tell me what's going on here?”

The officer paused briefly, looking unsure. “Possible break-in or trespassing, we're thinking, although it's a weird one. At first we even had reports of an earthquake, but those are unconfirmed.” He looked at her. “Any particular reason why the Marshals are here?”

“Just being neighborly,” Mary said brightly, and pushed past him into the building.

Marshall followed, giving the main an apologetic glance. “Don't worry, Officer – Walker,” he said, reading the man's name badge. “We'll try to stay out of your way.”

Another uniformed cop was making his way down the hall toward them as Mary and Marshall headed to Ashley Stuart's apartment. His name badge identified him as Officer Kim. “So, what kind of trespassing are we looking at here, Officer?” Mary asked, showing her badge. When he didn't reply immediately, she added, “It's all right, we already talked to your partner.”

“Well then, you know this is freaky stuff,” the man said. “I mean, lights flashing, weird noises, voices, rumbling, the whole bit.”

Mary traded a look with Marshall, who spoke up. “Signs of forced entry to the building?”

“Not really,” the man admitted. “That's part of why it's so weird.”

“Who called it in?” Marshall asked.

“Guy in apartment one twenty-two,” Kim said, gesturing behind him. “We didn't get a lot out of him, though. He just said this has happened a couple times now, in the evenings. I don't think there's much of a case here.” He frowned. “I don't think we need the Marshals-”

“Thanks,” Mary broke in. “We'll see what we can find out, anyway.” She stood until he shook his head and left. “He's right, though. Lights flashing and weird noises, huh? It's not exactly a new building. That could be anything. What are we doing here? Why does anybody care?” But she went to Ashley's door and knocked before Marshall could answer.

Her witness opened the door. “Hi, Mary. Hey, Marshall. What are you guys doing here?” she wondered, unintentionally echoing Mary. “Is everything all right?”

“It looks like it, but may we come in?” Marshall asked.

Once inside, they explained about the police call. “So the question is, are you all right? Has there been anything suspicious going on, other than the... whatever happened tonight?” said Mary.

“I'm fine,” Ashley said quickly. “Uh, yeah, nothing suspicious. The lights and stuff was weird. And the shaking was a little scary, but they said it wasn't an earthquake and everyone's all right. It's not bothering me. Really.”

Mary narrowed her eyes. “You're sure you're fine? Because just last week you were telling me you didn't think you could do this, and you were too lonely, and it was too much.”

Something like a smile flashed across her witness' face. “No, I know. But it's... better now. I think I'll be okay.”

Mary stared at her for another long moment. “All right, if you say so. Well, you know the drill: let me know if you think, even for just a second, that anyone from your old life has recognized you, or if you think of anything suspicious at all.”

“And remember we have counselors we can recommend to you,” Marshall added gently, though this was an offer she had refused more than once.

“I know,” was her only answer. “Uh, thanks for checking up on me. I'll see you later.”

“Yeah,” said Mary, and turned to go. “Have a nice night.”

In the hallway, Mary frowned at her partner. “That is the weirdest thing I've heard this evening. Not even your ghost stuff compares. Ashley Stuart – who didn't think she could live without her sister, much less start a new life – is suddenly fine? Not that I'm complaining that she might not be calling me to whine anymore, but still.”

“Normally, I might take issue with your undying pessimism about other people's happiness, but it does seem farfetched for her to have suddenly gotten over her grief in the space of another week,” Marshall agreed.

“Anyway, I guess we should talk to this neighbor before we leave,” Mary said, turning her mind from Ashley's suspicious behavior to the reason they had come in the first place.

“Apartment one twenty-two,” Marshall reminded them.

Mr. George Van Allen, source of the police call, was a little confused as to why he needed to tell his story again, but accepted their thin explanation without further question. “I guess if the Feds know about this stuff, maybe one of you guys will actually do something about it.”

“We'll take whatever action we can,” Marshall said seriously, while Mary restrained herself from snorting.

“Good. Anyway, what happened was sort of like a couple nights ago,” he began.

“How about you start with the earliest incident and then go forward from there,” Marshall put in.

“All right. So, Tuesday night, I was just thinking about what to do for dinner. I remember I had been wanting to try takeout from a restaurant my buddy told me about, so I picked up the card he gave me and went to my phone, when suddenly the lights start flickering. At first I think, well, it's just a windstorm or something, but then I hear a voice speak right next to me, even though I know there was no one there!”

“That is certainly odd,” Marshall said. “So what happened next?”

“Well, I turned around to look and I said, 'Who's there?'” Van Allen's voice became more animated with the memory. “And I swear there was a shape there, like the shadow of somebody. I tell you, it freaked me out. But then I blinked and it was gone. I don't know, maybe I was imagining that. I thought I heard someone answer when I spoke, too, although I couldn't tell you what they said.”

“Ooookay. What about tonight?” Mary asked, arms crossed.

“Almost the same time, just after 5:00,” George said. “I had already started water boiling for dinner, when all the power and lights flickered again. This time, there was this rumbling and the whole place shook like an earthquake. One of my pictures fell off the wall – see?” He pointed to where a frame rested against the wall, glass cracked. “But when I called the police, no one knew what I was talking about, said they hadn't got any other reports of an earthquake. I'm not the only one who felt it, though. The others on this floor that I've talked to felt it, too.”

“What about the voice or the shadow? Did anything like that happen again?” said Marshall.

“No voice this time, but I could swear I heard someone moving around in my front room right around the time the shaking started. I heard footsteps.” He shrugged. “I know it sounds a little crazy. Hey, this building's old, though, right? I'm starting to think it's haunted or something.”

“Who knows?” was Marshall's even, noncommittal reply.

Mary rolled her eyes. “Well, that is quite a story, Mr. Van Allen. Thanks for your time.”

“You guys going to be able to do something about it?” he asked, walking with them to the door.

“Yeah, don't count-” Mary started to say.

Marshall broke in hurriedly. “I promise we'll let you know if any information comes to light. Thank you for taking the time to speak to us, Mr. Van Allen. Good night.” Mary allowed him to usher her out the door ahead of him.

~~~~~~

After lunch the next day, Mary happened to look over Marshall's shoulder to see that he was reading something online about an investigation into a possibly haunted building in Brooklyn. “Seriously? Where do you find this stuff, Marshall?”

“I'll have you know, I'm mostly an agnostic when it comes to paranormal phenomena,” said Marshall primly. “Nevertheless, I find it beneficial to stay informed. I get news alerts for any time 'this stuff' appears in the news or someone blogs about it on a public site.”

Mary huffed out a breath. “I guess it would be some kind of sign of the End Times if you were uninformed about something.”

Marshall grinned. “You know you love it.”

“It's what I live for,” Mary said. “So, what's up with this New York haunting? Anything normal people would have any reason to care about?”

Ignoring the jab, he scrolled through the article. “There aren't a whole lot of details here. The building in question had been getting reports of voices, things appearing and disappearing – and then several people attending a party at one of the apartments died under mysterious circumstances. It was eventually ruled accidental, it looks like, but no satisfactory cause was found. The FBI investigated, and shortly after -” he scrolled down - “there was some kind of small earthquake centered around just that building, and then it suddenly all stopped.”

“Good, so maybe all the weird stuff at Ashley's place will just stop, too,” Mary remarked. Then she leaned in to look at Marshall's screen. “Wait, hold on a second.” She went to her computer for a moment and opened a file. “That 'haunted' building in New York was in Brooklyn?”

“That's right,” said Marshall. “Why do you ask?”

“How far is it from Brooklyn to Poughkeepsie?”

Understanding began to dawn in Marshall's eyes. “Ashley Stuart is from Poughkeepsie, isn't she?”

“Exactly,” Mary said.

“Well, let's see,” Marshall said, bringing up a New York map on his screen. “They're about... seventy miles away from each other.”

Mary frowned. “If all those things actually happened in that place in Brooklyn, that can't be a coincidence, can it?”

Marshall gave a nod. “I'm inclined to agree, except we still don't have any idea what is going on, so it's difficult to speculate. I wonder...” He looked back on his monitor. “Maybe we should get in touch with these FBI agents from the Brooklyn case.”

“And say what? Ask if they know the Ghostbusters?” Mary said. She sighed. “I mean, it does look like this could be some kind of security risk, but I'd rather not have to deal with the FBI if we don't have to.”

“What's your suggestion, then? Because I don't think it's responsible to do nothing.”

“Oh, don't give me that, Marshall. I know how to be responsible about my witness,” she snapped. “And to prove it, I was just going to suggest we do a stakeout this evening, to see what we can see at Ashley Stuart's building. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” Marshall replied. “And for the record, that wasn't a dig at your ability to do your job.”

“Yeah, fine. Good. Let's go. We don't want to miss the show,” said Mary.

Marshall followed, giving a little sigh of his own.

~~~~~~~

Mary glanced at her watch, slumping back in her seat when she learned that only two minutes had passed since she last checked. “I almost forgot how much I hate sitting around doing nothing.”

“I didn't,” said Marshall. “I'd suggest we pass the time by playing Twenty Questions or some other such game, but I haven't forgotten how much you hate that, either.”

She snorted. “Good call.”

“If it helps at all, according to Mr. Van Allen, if anything is going to happen, we shouldn't have much longer to wait. It's 5:01 now,” he pointed out.

Mary shifted again in her seat. “Hmph. And that's if anything is actually going to happen.” She tapped her fingers on her thigh. “Which would mean my witness isn't safe, which isn't something I actually want.”

“It is a bit of a conundrum,” Marshall agreed.

“Was that on your word of the day calendar this morning?” Mary asked, shooting him a look.

“Actually, it was 'afflatus', which means-” Marshall began, but was interrupted by a low rumbling. “I think this is it.”

Though they could see the building begin to shake, and the rumbling continue, it didn't seem to be spreading even as far as where they were parked. Mary watched, mystified. “This is bizarre.” She shook her head and said, “I'm gonna call Ashley, see what's going on.” She dialed and waited. And waited some more, then swore and hung up. “She's not answering. Let's go.”

They moved in carefully. The going became more dangerous as they entered the building, although the shaking was not intense enough to cause them to lose their balance. “This is exactly what we're not supposed to do in an earthquake,” Marshall said, almost too quietly to be heard over the noise of the rumbling and the raised voices of the occupants of the building.

“What, look for someone?” Mary wondered, putting her hand against the wall.

“Move around at all,” said Marshall.

“Well, we have to see how Ashley is. And besides, if we don't talk to her, we get nothing except confirmation that there's been a weirdly small earthquake,” Mary said. “But I'll do my best not to get hit by falling chandeliers or anything, as long as you do the same.”

Marshall gave a smile that was more like a grimace. “Yeah. Let's hope we can confirm Ashley's safety soon, though.” By this time, they were in the right part of the hall. “Stay close to the walls, just in case.” He stumbled, as if in answer to his own words. The lights started to flicker.

“Hell yes,” said Mary. “I'd like to get out of this uninjured. I'd like everyone to get out of this uninjured.”

“What's going on?” they heard a voice shout. “Why the hell is this happening again?”

There was a crash from the apartment nearest to them. “Is everyone all right in there?” Marshall called.

“Yeah,” was the reply. “I think so. Just some stuff falling.”

“Have I mentioned how this is nuts?” Mary asked her partner.

Before he could answer, there was a shriek from another room. Mary went as quickly as she could to that door. “Are you okay? What happened?”

At first there was no sound to be heard over the din. But after a moment, the door opened and a wide-eyed older woman looked out. “I – I thought I saw someone in my house,” she stammered. “I couldn't see him clearly. But when I swung my frying pan at him, he disappeared right in front of my eyes!”

“All right, please stay inside under something solid like a table until this over, ma'am,” said Marshall. “If we see any strange man, we'll take care of him.” The door closed. “'Nuts' sounds about right,” he added to Mary.

Finally, they reached Ashley's door and knocked. “Ashley? It's Mary and Marshall!” Mary said loudly. “Are you all right?”

There was no answer for a moment, and Mary pounded even louder. “Ashley! Let us in!”

She raised her hand to knock again, but Marshall grabbed it. “I think she's coming.”

Sure enough, the door opened. Ashley stood there, frowning. “Why are you here?”

“Geez, hello to you, too,” Mary snapped. “You didn't answer your phone and your apartment complex is its own little earthquake center.”

“The technical term is 'epicenter',” Marshall put in helpfully, earning him a glare from both women.

“Anyway,” Mary went on, “you want to let us in?”

“I'm fine, isn't that good enough?” Ashley insisted.

“You wouldn't be hiding anything you shouldn't be, would you?” Mary asked.

Ashley sighed. Suddenly, the shaking stopped and the lights came back to normal. For a moment, the young woman looked truly furious, but then she opened the door. “Fine. Come in. I have nothing to hide.” She closed the door behind the marshals. “I'm not breaking any rules. I just... wanted to be left alone for the evening.” She wiped a hand across her cheek.

Mary walked around the living room and the kitchen quickly, seeing no immediate evidence of any dangerous connections to Ashley's past life. “All right. Maybe you're not doing anything stupid. Except not answering a phone call from the agent assigned to keep you safe? That is stupid, Ashley. What if I'd been calling to tell you about a threat to your life?”

Ashley nodded, still clearly annoyed. “Yeah, I got it. It won't happen again, Mary.”

“It better not,” Mary said. “And what's up with this craziness at your apartment? I'm seriously thinking we should move you.”

“No!” Ashley said quickly, eyes widening.

Mary raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“She – I mean, I... I just got settled in here. I like it here,” she said.

“What exactly do you like about it? Does the feel of the earth moving lull you to sleep or something?” Mary asked incredulously. “The weird voices and shadows and the flashing lights give you a warm fuzzy feeling?”

Mary was positive Ashley Stuart looked guilty about something, much as she would have liked to hope otherwise. “No, it's just... I'm used to living here now. It's not so bad.”

“Are you sure you're not in contact with someone from home? No emails? No phone calls?”

“I'm not. I swear,” she said, still looking uncomfortable. “I know how important it is.”

There was a pause. “Okay. I'll take your word on that for now, since I don't have any other choice. I still think if all these disturbances continue, we're going to have to move you,” Mary said. “I don't want to uproot you again. I know that's tough. But you can't be safe in a building that might be falling down who knows when, and it's our job to keep you safe.”

Marshall spoke. “We can try to do our best to keep you in the neighborhood, so you can still use the same grocery stores, catch most of the same buses, that kind of thing. I know how important a routine is for being settled in a new place.”

Ashley nodded. “I guess, if we have to, I'd appreciate that.” Her tone was not exactly appreciative.

“All right. We're not going to force you to pack a bag this minute,” said Mary. “I mean, it seems to have stopped for tonight, anyway. But I think we have to start looking into it.” There was another small pause. “Good night, Ashley. And you know to call if you need us, right?”

“I know. See you guys,” she said in a subdued voice.

As they made their way back out, everything seemed calm in the building. Mary wondered if the police might have been called again, and decided she'd rather not be there, if they were. “That was... I don't know how this could get any more complicated, but I'm sure Ashley was hiding something.”

They exited. “Yeah,” said Marshall. “And I think we have enough to ask the FBI agents who worked on that New York case for an assist.”

~~~~~~

After his inspectors had explained the situation to him, Stan agreed that any help they could get from the FBI agents might be appreciated. “We need to get this sorted out as soon as we can. Marshall, you have a contact number for these guys?”

“Not exactly,” he admitted, “but I have a friend in the NYPD who might be able to get it for me.”

“When did you make a friend in the NYPD?” Mary asked.

“If you must know, we knew each other in college,” Marshall said.

“Anyway,” Stan said, breaking in before Mary could continue to pursue the idea, “call him up, Marshall. Let's get on top of this.”

Marshall went back to his desk and dialed the number. “Hey, Frank, it's Marshall. How are you doing? And how's Sarah? Glad to hear it. Yeah, sorry, I know it's a little late there. I have a question relating to a case here.” There was a pause, and he chuckled. “Yes, you're right about that. Anyway, do you know anything about a case the FBI checked out in Brooklyn just a little over a week ago?” He explained the details, and there was another pause. “There's something similar happening here. Can't go into any more details, but we thought- Yes, could you? That would be great. Thanks, Frank. Talk to you later.”

“And?” Mary said immediately.

“Well, he doesn't know right this instant, but he said he'd find out.”

“Great,” said Mary. “In the meantime, I'm dying for something to eat. You're buying.”

“Of course,” sighed Marshall. “But I'm choosing, too.”

~~~~~~

When Marshall's phone rang as they were finishing up, he took it out of his pocket and frowned.

“What? Who is it?”

“It's not Frank. I don't recognize the number. Well, I guess he could be using an office phone, or something.” He answered. “Marshall Miller.”

“Inspector Marshall Mann?” an unfamiliar male voice asked.

“Who is this?” Marshall countered.

“This is Special Agent Philip Broyles, head of the Fringe Division. I was told you requested information about one of our cases?”

Marshall blinked. “I've never heard of the Fringe Division, but I'm looking into a case that was reported to have been investigated by the FBI about ten days ago. Park Slope, Brooklyn, New York – bizarre occurrences and several mysterious deaths, then unexplained seismological activity in the area?”

After a moment, Broyles replied, “My team did investigate that case. What is it you want to know?”

“Well, Agent Broyles, something similar appears to be happening here in Albuquerque. My partner and I were hoping to consult with the investigators on the Brooklyn case,” Marshall said.

“And why are the Marshals interested?”

“Suffice it to say that we are, and it's imperative we get some answers. If this truly is similar to your situation, it would seem that lives are at stake,” Marshall said. “Isn't that correct?”

“Inspector Mann, I'll speak to the rest of my team. You're right that this could be very serious,” said Broyles. “Can you email me office the details of your case?”

“I'll send you what we've observed,” Marshall said. He grabbed a pen and a napkin. “What's the address?” The man gave it. “All right. Thank you, Agent Broyles.” He hung up and turned to Mary. “As I'm sure you've guessed, that wasn't Frank.”

She snorted. “No, really?” She stood. “But it sounds like we might actually get some answers out of this?”

“We might,” said Marshall, also standing. “This Agent Broyles didn't sound like the most forthcoming, friendly sort, but he did seem to want to do something about this.”

“Good,” said Mary.

~~~~~~

Most of a normal day's work passed before there was much in the way of a development in the Ashley Stuart case. Notably, both Stan and Marshall got another call from Agent Broyles, who said he was sending his team as soon as they could get there. He promised to liaise with the Albuquerque FBI office to avoid unnecessary complications, and told them to look forward to his team's arrival that afternoon.

“And that team is a Dr. Walter Bishop, a scientist, his son Peter Bishop, and Special Agent Olivia Dunham of the FBI,” added Marshall after he had passed on this info.

“Wait, only one of them is actually a federal agent?” Mary asked. “Great. Civilians. That's going to make our secrecy issue even more of an issue.”

“Well, if they are a part of this team, they're probably at least a bit used to knowing things they can't tell their friends,” Marshall pointed out.

“I guess,” Mary said. She thought for a moment, then shook her head. “I cannot begin to imagine working with my mother every day.”

Marshall shuddered lightly. “Thankfully that's even less likely than me working with my father.”

“Yeah,” said Mary. “Anyway, can't say I'm looking forward to this, but I guess whatever works.” She paused. “And you said they're called the 'Fringe' Division? What kind of name is that?”

Marshall considered. “I would hazard a guess that it refers to fringe science, which is scientific inquiry in a field that is outside more regular or mainstream ideas.”

She frowned. “So, what, these guys are into the occult and hypnosis and stuff? Great.”

“Not exactly,” he said. “That's more pseudoscience – although I will remind you that what we saw and heard described at Ashley's apartment did not sound unlike something to do with ghosts or poltergeists.” Mary rolled her eyes, but he continued. “Fringe science is generally considered to be possible, simply unproven.”

“Unproven, huh?” Her eyes narrowed. “Hold on a second. These guys are Mulder and Scully, aren't they? Unbelievable.”

He grinned. “Why, Mary Shannon! You made that connection before I did!”

She groaned, putting her head in her hands. “This is entirely your fault. You're going to turn me into a nerd!”

He giggled. “You've discovered my evil plan!”

She threw a paper clip at him, and there the matter rested until the Fringe team themselves arrived after lunch. They had rented a car, and called ahead to inform the office that they were on their way. Marshall jumped up to let them in, greeting first a man who must have been in his sixties, followed by a younger man and a woman who looked to be closer to the inspectors' ages. “You must be Dr. Bishop. I'm Inspector Marshall Mann. Welcome to Albuquerque.”

“Oh, thank you, Inspector,” said Dr. Bishop. “I must say, it was an interesting flight. You see, I haven't had much recent experience flying. This time, the security screening was especially-”

“Let's not get into that here, Walter,” interrupted the younger man with an expression that warred between amusement and annoyance. He turned to Marshall, extending a hand to shake his. “Inspector. Peter Bishop. And this is Agent Olivia Dunham.”

The tall blonde woman stepped forward, also shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you. And this must be your partner, Inspector Shannon?”

Mary shook her hand. “Yeah, nice to meet you all.” She had noticed that Peter Bishop referred to his father by the man's first name, and couldn't help wondering if the two of them might not suffer from a similarly “close” relationship as she had with her mother. She shook herself mentally, while Stan came forward to introduce himself, as well. When that was done, Mary spoke again. “So, I guess our crazy case here must not seem so out of the ordinary for you guys.”

“In general, no,” Agent Dunham admitted, with a small, almost pained smile, “but if what's happening here is like what we saw in Brooklyn, it's still quite a rare thing.”

“Thankfully,” added Dr. Bishop. “I wish it were even rarer. This is not supposed to be happening anywhere else.”

Mary exchanged a confused glance with her partner. “And what does that mean, exactly?”

“Unfortunately, what Dr. Bishop is referring to is classified,” Agent Dunham said. “But I can tell you that we haven't had any reports like yours from anywhere except New York.”

Mary frowned. “Great. Classified. Well, this is going to be a barrel of laughs.”

Marshall stepped in. “Anyway, I guess you should see the location for yourselves. We can take you.”

“Oh, no, we'd better follow in our car,” said Dr. Bishop. “I've brought some scientific equipment with me, and it's a bit bulky to transport.”

“We can call Astrid when we get there,” said the younger Bishop. “Let her know to start monitoring from the lab.”

“Who's Astrid?” Mary asked, as they walked out.

“My assistant,” Dr. Bishop explained. “She wanted to come, but it's better we have someone back in my lab to monitor the seismic and barometric readings I'll be sending back.”

More and more nonplussed, Mary was uncharacteristically silent as they got into their separate cars. Finally, she burst out, “What the hell did we get ourselves into, Marshall?”

He paused before answering. “I honestly don't know, Mer. But I think they know what they're doing. And you did admit we need help on this one.”

“Yeah, but if neither side can speak freely, it's going to end up like we're all using some kind of code!”

“Well, we'll just have to brush up on our cryptography, then,” was Marshall's response.

She stared at him, then sighed. “Whatever. We can start by figuring out how to explain why we're focused on Ashley Stuart.”

They arrived a few minutes after 3:00, the Fringe team close behind them. “This is it,” said Marshall rather unnecessarily. “The... events haven't been starting until after 5:00, but if you need to set up equipment, now would be an opportune time.”

“Yes, indeed,” said Dr. Bishop. “Peter, if you would assist me?”

“Sure,” Peter said.

“Where, specifically, in the structure of the building are the events most localized?” Dr. Bishop asked, as they opened the trunk of their car.

Mary and Marshall hesitated. “Neither of us has more than the one time experiencing this in person,” Marshall said finally, “but if I had to guess, I would say the first floor.”

“Very well, we'll start there. My machines are sensitive enough to pick up readings even if that does not turn out to be correct, in any case,” said Dr. Bishop. Agent Dunham followed as they headed in, presumably to help with setup or with answering questions tenants might have – although Mary wondered just what kind of answer the team members would be able to give.

“Is there anything we can do?” Marshall offered.

Dunham stopped. “Uh, if you could tell me where the witness you mentioned lives, and introduce me to him, I'd like to speak with him, if he's home.”

Mary did a mental double-take at the use of that term for George Van Allen, but quickly figured out what she meant. “Yeah, sure. I get the feeling he works from home, so he'll probably be there. He'll probably be extra thrilled to see the FBI is involved.”

“Maybe we can all reinforce his faith in the government to solve the people's problems,” Marshall agreed.

Dunham smiled. “Let's hope so.” As they went inside, she informed Peter what they were doing. “We'll catch up with you after.”

He smiled at her as he acknowledged her words in a way that Mary couldn't help but notice. Now she had even more to speculate about in regards to the members of this team, but she decided to file that away for another time.

George was indeed home and he did indeed seem pleased to have the interest of yet another federal agency. Dunham paid close attention to his story, asked a few clarifying questions, and thanked him for his time. Before they left, she had one more question. “Oh, by the way, Mr. Van Allen, how long have you lived here?”

“Uh, just about... yeah, five years now.” He seemed to be waiting for some explanation for the question, but hearing none, he added, “Nothing like this ever happened until just this week.”

“All right, well, thank you again,” said Dunham. “We'll do our best to get this figured out.”

“I hope so,” said George. “And let me know if I can be of any more help.”

“I'll be sure to do that,” she said.

When they had left, Mary asked, “So did you really get anything helpful out of that?”

“Sort of,” said Dunham. “Did you get any other witness statements?”

Mary traded a look with Marshall. “Not exactly. We do have a... friend who lives here, but she basically seemed to corroborate what Van Allen said.”

Dunham paused and gave them a speculative look. “And this friend of yours, does she have anything to do with why you as U.S. Marshals might be interested in this case to begin with?”

“I'm not sure what you mean,” Mary said casually.

Dunham nodded. “I see. Would it be all right if I spoke to her, as well?”

Marshall caught Mary's eye again. He spoke carefully. “We do want to help...”

“Of course I'd like you two to be present,” Dunham put in, as he hesitated. “You could... guide my questions, if you want.”

Mary sighed. “All right, fine. Ashley Stuart is just down the hallway, but she's probably at work. She'll be-” She caught herself, not wanting to sound too sure. “I believe she'll be back in an hour or two.”

“Okay,” said Dunham. There was indeed no response when Mary knocked on her door, so they headed back to where the two Bishops were.

The setup appeared to be over. Dr. Bishop was pacing around and talking on a cell phone to someone, and seemed rather agitated. “What do you mean? That won't work at all!”

“Is everything all right, Peter?” Dunham asked, gesturing to his father.

“Oh, fine. I think Walter just wants to be here and at the lab at the same time,” Peter explained. “But Astrid's used to his micromanaging. She can take it. What did you find out?”

“Well, George Van Allen's story is interesting enough,” she replied. “But I don't think he's our guy, if there is a guy.”

Peter nodded. “Hopefully we'll find out this evening, if everything happens again.”

“'A guy'?” Mary said quickly. “You think a person is causing this?”

“It's possible,” Peter said. “Why, what did you think?”

Marshall shrugged. “We hadn't got farther than mentioning – and disregarding, in my partner's case – the possibility of a poltergeist, to be honest.”

“Nonsense, there is no such thing,” Dr. Bishop said, rejoining the group.

“You're sure?” Marshall asked, sounding honestly curious.

“I've never encountered a case with a so-called haunting that did not end up having a scientific explanation,” was Dr. Bishop's answer.

Mary, who could still barely believe she was experiencing anything that resulted in her being present during this conversation, shook her head, doubt obvious in her voice as she spoke. “Well, you guys are the experts, I guess. Anyway, we still have over an hour until five. Anything else we should do?”

“And your friend should be back before then, right?” Dunham asked.

“What friend?” Dr. Bishop wondered.

“The Inspectors know someone who lives here, and I thought we should probably get her statement, but she's at work right now,” Dunham said.

“You both happen to be acquainted with her, and she lives at this building?” Dr. Bishop said.

Peter got the same sort of calculating look that Dunham had earlier. “Ah. I'm guessing you guys aren't the kind of marshals who deliver warrants.”

“What do you-? Ohh,” said his father. “You mean-”

“Now that we've got that out of the way, and you understand neither Marshall nor I are confirming or denying anything you're saying,” Mary cut in, “our friend Ashley Stuart is – probably – going to get back at around 4:45.”

It was Dr. Bishop's turn to look as though he was carefully considering something. “Oh my. If this Ashley Stuart is...” He looked up at Mary and Marshall, trailing off, then seemed to make up his mind. He went over to Agent Dunham and whispered something in her ear. It took a minute, but Dunham appeared to be listening closely. Peter, on the other hand, looked impatient, which Mary certainly understood.

When he finished, Dunham turned back to the marshals. “Inspectors, may I ask you a purely theoretical question? I'm pretty sure I know the answers, but I'd like to get your expert opinions.”

“Go ahead,” said Mary guardedly.

“All right. What are the reasons someone might choose to enter Witness Protection?”

“Theoretically,” Dr. Bishop added.

“Well, federally protected witnesses are either witnesses of a crime or criminals themselves who agree to testify against their former colleagues or conspirators,” Marshall replied smoothly. “In either category, the witness agrees to testify in exchange for being kept safe from potential retribution.”

“But they have to give up their former lives and start completely new ones, right?” Peter said, obviously just wanting their confirmation. “They might have lived somewhere entirely across the country before they enter the program?”

“That's the idea,” Mary said. “But why is this important? It sounds like you think Ashley might have something to do with this, and that's crazy. Theoretically.”

“No one thinks your friend is doing anything malicious to cause this,” said Dunham, after a moment. “Or that anyone is, for that matter.”

“It's not being done on purpose,” said Dr. Bishop, “whether or not it is your friend who is the cause.”

“Oh, thanks, that clears everything right up,” Mary said, crossing her arms.

“What Inspector Shannon means to say,” Marshall cut in, “is that it seems like we're going to need more information in order to do our jobs and help you do yours.”

“More or less,” Mary agreed.

“So is that possible?” Marshall asked.

There was another pause. Peter was the first to break the silence. “I know it's not my call, but given what we already... may know about their jobs, I'd say they can handle keeping things quiet.”

Agent Dunham nodded. “I was thinking along the same lines. I'll call Broyles.” She stepped away and put her phone to her ear.

“I told you this would be a blast,” Mary grumbled to Marshall, keeping her voice down.

“It's not as bad as it could be,” Marshall said, also in a low tone. “At least we're not attempting to work with the Men In Black, or anything.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Oh, hell no. If you're trying to tell me – if anyone tries to tell me that aliens are involved, I give up. I mean it, I am out.”

Dunham came back at that moment. “Broyles agreed that you two aren't likely to spread rumors or cause a panic with this information.”

Mary cocked her head. “No, although as bizarre is this has been, I'd probably keep it to myself anyway.”

“Welcome to our everyday life,” Peter remarked.

Dunham glanced at him and smiled. “Good. Walter, would you like to explain?”

“But without going overboard on the technical details, please?” said Peter quickly.

“Of course not,” said Dr. Bishop. He turned to the marshals. “You've heard of multiple universes?”

“Yes,” said Marshall. “The theory that everything that exists is made up of multiple possible universes, including the one in our history and which we currently experience. The alternate universes may be very like ours but not quite the same. It's even been theorized that every choice we make creates another alternate in which the other choice is the one that happened.”

“Exactly.” Dr. Bishop seemed pleased. “Well-put. I believe that was Hugh Everett who proposed the Many-Worlds theory, which you just described. Well, the key here is this: we know there is an alternate universe. Unfortunately, for reasons which I won't go into, the universes are collapsing in on each other, weakening in certain spots, and we know it will get worse and worse.”

At this point, Mary interrupted, unable to hold back anymore. “Seriously? Multiple universes? You expect us to believe this crap? I mean, it's an interesting plot for a movie, if you like that kind of thing-”

“I assure you,” snapped Dr. Bishop in a much sharper tone than she would have imagined to be able to come out of the man, “it is scientific fact. If you cannot accept this, then I suppose we'll have to deal with this on our own. We've done it before.”

“What the hell? So now you're going to push us out of our own case if we don't believe in your insane theory?”

“Whoa, whoa, let's calm down a moment,” said Peter. “Look, Inspector, I know how crazy this all sounds. I still have trouble believing some of the stuff we see. But I promise this is real.”

“It is,” said Agent Dunham, looking grave. “And we don't want to force you out of this case. I would really appreciate your knowledge of the people involved, and none of us wants to get in the way of any work the U.S. Marshals might be doing here.”

Mary looked at her partner. “Marshall, don't tell me you believe this bull.”

“I can't say that I do, exactly,” Marshall admitted. “But you and I couldn't come up with any explanation for what we've seen or heard about, and Dr. Bishop at least has one. I'm thinking I'll reserve judgment for the time being.”

She sighed, then turned back to Agent Dunham. “And if I called your boss, he'd say the same thing? Really?”

“Yeah. He's seen this kind of thing, too,” the other woman confirmed. “We believe this could be a weak spot between the universes.”

“Yes, the seismic activity, the strange sounds, voices, and figures, the electrical disturbances, it all seems to fit,” said Dr. Bishop. “Although it is worrying that there is one here. I had hoped there was nothing so serious this far west – that's part of why it might be important whether or not your friend has moved across the country.”

“But we can't just go telling people those kinds of facts. That's the whole point of what we do!” Mary insisted.

“How about we decide it's our turn to call our boss,” suggested Marshall. He took out his phone. “All right?”

Mary remained unconvinced. Perhaps seeing this, Agent Dunham pointed out, “We can work with generalities as much as possible. I don't need to know about any specific criminals or even the crime, except possibly how it affected Ashley.”

Every face was turned toward Mary. She sighed again and threw up her hands. “Fine. Call Stan. Because this is officially Bizarro Day, he'll probably agree to this.”

“While your partner makes his call, may I ask you one more question, Inspector?” Dr. Bishop said.

“What is it?” Mary said, imagining what other details were about to be wormed out of her.

His voice was tinged with fascination and glee. “Did I hear correctly that your partner's first name is Marshall, and he is a United States Marshal, making him Marshal Marshall?”

Mary cracked her first genuine smile in what seemed like quite a long time.

~~~~~~

Stan did agree, after having the situation explained (as much as that was possible). It was a good thing, too, Mary guessed, since Ashley Stuart had come home just minutes after they'd finally settled on what they could tell each other. Not that she was going to let anyone know that she had any positive feelings about this, of course. It was all still beyond ridiculous, which she had said more than once already.

Mary was able to catch Ashley as she was heading in and tell her a little about the Fringe team before the younger woman met them. Ashley didn't seem overly pleased about this development, but when Mary and Marshall pointed out that they might be able to help resolve the problems at the building without making Ashley move, she reluctantly agreed to talk to them.

So, once again she and Marshall were inside Ashley Stuart's apartment, although this time it was rather crowded with three other people inside as well. Once again, Ashley could hardly have looked less excited about this attention. “What do you guys want to know?” she said, tapping her fingers against the armrest of her chair.

“If you could tell us what you've seen these past few days, with the strange happenings in this building, that would be great,” Agent Dunham said.

“Fine,” she said. “Well, uh, I've been just finishing my dinner when the rumbling and flashing lights start usually. It's weird, of course, but it hasn't hurt anything, as far as I know.”

Dunham waited for more, but when it didn't seem forthcoming, she prompted, “And is that all you've seen? Some of your neighbors talked about strange figures or voices.”

The young woman started, in a way that reminded Mary of times when Brandi was trying (and failing) to hide her guilt. “Uh, really? No, I haven't – I haven't had anything like that happen.”

Clearly, none of the Fringe team believed that, either. Peter spoke up. “So I hear you're new to the area, Ms. Stuart. Has it been hard, adjusting here? I'm sure you miss your friends and family.”

Ashley shot Mary a scared look.

“It's all right, Ashley. I told you, we checked these guys out. You're safe to tell them about your family, although I'm strongly recommending you keep out any names of people or places.”

“I don't have much family,” Ashley said. “But my sister, I do miss her.” She bit her lip. “We used to do almost everything together.”

“How old is she?” Dunham asked gently.

“She's... she was a year younger than me. She followed me around all the time, from when we were kids,” Ashley said.

Mary, who knew all this already, tried not to let her impatience show. She knew she actually would be sad if her sister had gotten shot in a wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time accidental encounter with a drug lord, but unlike with Ashley's situation, Mary couldn't help being grateful that Brandi had moved out and wasn't currently insinuating herself into everything Mary did.

“You said she 'was' a year younger? What happened to her?” Dunham asked. “I mean, you don't have to tell me exactly.”

“Why do I have to tell you at all?” Ashley burst out suddenly, wiping at her eyes. “What does this have to do with my building and the weird stuff here?”

“I think you might have already guessed that, just a little bit,” Peter said, meeting her eyes. “Did your sister die in whatever caused you to have to move here?” Ashley looked down, and he seemed to take that as confirmation. “I'm sorry.”

“It's hard to lose someone you're close to,” said Agent Dunham. “I bet you feel like you'd do anything to see her again, right?”

Ashley nodded, still not looking up.

“Ashley, I'm going to tell you a quick story about another case Peter, Dr. Bishop, and I investigated,” said Agent Dunham. “At the end, I'm going to ask you if it sounds familiar, all right?”

“Oh, God, story time?” Mary groaned. Marshall looked reproving, and Agent Dunham just looked mildly annoyed. Mary waved a hand. “Fine, fine, let's get this over with.”

Agent Dunham began telling Mary's witness about the Brooklyn case that had brought them to Marshall's attention. Mary was tempted to tune out, but then the FBI agent added in some details that definitely hadn't made it to the news. “We found out that these disturbances seemed to center around one apartment in particular. It belonged to a lady who had just been widowed after almost 45 years together. She missed her husband so much that she couldn't face life without him.”

Ashley shifted in her seat. She opened her mouth, closed it again, and then sighed. “Okay, so what happened when you found that out?”

“I found that out by seeing a figure in her room right when the disturbances were happening. It was glowing. It looked like a ghost, the ghost of a man,” said Agent Dunham.

Mary rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, it was the woman's husband?”

“That's what she told us,” Agent Dunham replied.

“But it actually wasn't,” said Peter. “Not really.”

“It wasn't? What do you mean?” Ashley Stuart asked, eyes widening.

“Do you know what I mean when I say there are alternate universes?” Peter said.

“Here we go again,” Mary said under her breath, and purposefully let her mind wander while this same conversation was had again.

The long and short of it was that Ashley had heard of them and watched a few TV shows that used the idea. “What does that have to do with the lady and her husband's ghost?”

“It wasn't her husband's ghost,” Dr. Bishop said, taking up the story. “It was him, the man himself, quite alive in the other world. The fabric of the two universes was starting to weaken there in that spot.”

“We believe that in the other world, it was the alternate version of the woman who died, leaving her husband missing her terribly,” Agent Dunham added. “The combined force of their mutual longing for each other made that weak spot open up and cause all the trouble that had been going on there.”

Mary was completely flabbergasted. She hardly knew where to begin in letting them know just how pathetic and sappy that story was, but Marshall nudged her sharply before she could start. He gestured to Ashley.

Mary's witness was crying – not a new sight for her, but there was anger and something like panic there. “No. No, that's not possible,” she sobbed. “You guys are crazy. Just because I miss Janice so much and I finally get to see her again-”

“Wait, what?” Mary said. She blinked.

Agent Dunham leaned forward in her seat, closer to Ashley. “I know this is hard to accept, but what you're seeing isn't your sister.”

“I don't believe you! You can just get out now!” Ashley shouted, standing. “I'm not losing her again!”

Agent Dunham stood, looking uncomfortable and worried. “We'll go, Ms. Stuart. Let me suggest something, though – if you do see someone again, and I'm guessing you will, ask her about yourself. I'm betting she'll say it was you who got caught up in whatever led to you moving here. On her side, it probably was, which means she believes she's the one seeing your ghost.”

Ashley didn't say anything, just walked them to the door. She looked at Mary and Marshall angrily before they left. “Why the hell did you bring these crazy FBI people here? How could they possibly help anyone?”

“Look, Ashley, I'm sorry. You probably don't want to hear that I had my doubts, but you can be sure it won't happen again,” Mary said, and closed the door behind them. She turned toward the Fringe team. “Well. You guys certainly cracked this case! I don't know what we'd do without you. Oh, wait, I know: maybe I wouldn't lose my witness's trust in my ability to do my job for her.” They didn't seem to be moving, so she brushed past them and went toward the exit. “Coming, Marshall?”

“I'd like to hear what you hoped to accomplish,” Marshall said, not moving either. He put his hands on his hips.

“Believe it or not, we might have done what we needed to do,” said Peter. “If she takes Olivia's advice, she'll realize that it isn't her sister she's been seeing, and the weak spot will close.”

“We don't know for certain that this situation is quite the same as the one you and Olivia stopped in Brooklyn,” Dr. Bishop pointed out, “but I would have to agree it seems likely.”

“Likely? I guess to you guys it might,” Mary said. “It's likely that, what, the power of love is what's weakening the universes, and if she gives up, it will stop and everything will be peachy?”

“Basically,” said Peter, with a self-deprecating grin. Then he shook his head. “I know it sounds insane.”

“You're damn right it does,” said Mary. “I'm about ready to call in sane from work and drop this whole thing.”

“How can love physically affect the boundaries between universes?” Marshall asked, frowning.

“It's an odd concept, to be sure,” said Dr. Bishop, and launched into an explanation involving physics and math that Mary had no time for. She turned to go again – and then suddenly the building began to shake.

“It's worse this time,” Mary noted after a moment, reaching her hand to the wall.

Agent Dunham steadied herself and glanced toward Ashley's shut door. “Glimmering. It's definitely her.”

Mary decided she didn't even want to ask about that. “So what are we going to do about it?”

Peter Bishop's cell phone started to ring, adding to the clamor. He answered it and then handed it to his father. “What is it? Oh, yes, Astrid. We can see it. We're right at the scene.” Dr. Bishop continued talking, but Mary could hardly hear and was sure she wouldn't have understood, in any case.

“Let's wait a moment.” Dunham answered Mary's question. “If Ashley really wants to know, if we made her think about it enough, she'll ask, like I suggested.”

“And if not?” Marshall asked.

“We have another option, but it isn't a good one,” Dunham said grimly.

“It's set up and ready to go if we have to, though,” Peter added. “I'll go ask Walter how much time we have until we know it's necessary.” He went to join his father, who was heading toward some of the instruments they had set up earlier.

“If it does come down to the second option, we'll have to evacuate the building,” Dunham said.

“That won't be easy, with how hard the ground's shaking,” Marshall said. “But I'm sure you've thought of that.”

“Yeah. That's just one of many reasons I hope we don't have to use it,” was her response.

The building gave an especially violent lurch, almost knocking the three federal agents off their feet. Dr. Bishop came back into view, dusting himself off, with Peter right behind him. “After looking at my equipment and talking with Astrid, I estimate we have at most three minutes before the damage will become too catastrophic to repair itself without the use of-”

“Okay, three minutes,” Peter interrupted. “We got it.”

Obviously, this thing was serious business, if no one even wanted to mention it by name, Mary thought. All the many, many things she had no clue about in this case were starting to drive her crazy. But at least she'd be in good company if that happened, she reflected, with a wince. It gave her only a small amount of comfort to note that Marshall was at least not entirely convinced. He still appeared far too accepting of all this crap for her tastes.

In the meantime, as they waited for something impossible to happen to bring an end to some of the other impossible things that had been happening, Mary hoped less than three minutes wouldn't bring the building down on them. As the thought passed through her mind, the building rocked again. She heard several crashes from various rooms, and a few cries of pain or fear. “We should evacuate this place, now!”

“Except that, as I've mentioned, it's safer to stay under cover and not try to go anywhere during an earthquake,” Marshall countered. “But I do agree that Ashley doesn't seem to be making a decision that stops this.”

“You don't understand,” Dunham cut in urgently. “If Ashley doesn't realize that it's not her sister and we don't evacuate the building, the other option means that everyone here will be beyond our help.”

Mary's eyes widened. The woman was clearly deadly serious.

“Two minutes,” Dr. Bishop called out nervously.

“Okay, that's it,” Mary said. She walked over to Ashley's door and pounded on it. “Ashley, it's Mary! Open up!”

“Go away, Mary!” was the shouted reply.

“I will not go away when this entire building's about to come down!” Mary shouted back. “Open the door! I'm getting you out of here.”

“That won't fix the weak spot,” Dr. Bishop said. “As long as she and her sister in the alternate universe are-”

“Fine, whatever,” Mary snapped. “I still need to get in there.”

“Ashley, if you don't open the door, we're going to have to break it down!” Marshall yelled. Mary gave him an approving look.

They waited a moment, and then the sound of the deadbolt being turned was audible over the continuing rumbling. The door opened to Ashley's suspicious face. “What do you want? Janice is here, and I'm going to keep talking to her.”

“Ashley?” a rather faint voice came from inside the room. “What are you doing? Are you okay?”

Mary put her hand on the door to keep Ashley from closing it. “You're saying your dead sister is there in the room with you?”

“It's her,” Ashley insisted. “It really is.”

Agent Dunham and the Bishops came up behind Mary, but Mary did her best to ignore them. Still, she thought she might as well get the impossible part over with to start. “Okay, say there is actually someone there. Did you ask her about yourself, like Agent Dunham said?”

Ashley frowned. “Yeah. But she's just confused. I can understand that, with the trauma of... what happened to her.”

Mary sighed. “Whatever. Ashley, do you not see what is happening here? Haven't you noticed that it's getting worse? It's my job to protect you, and this situation is just about as dangerous as it gets.”

Her witness turned back toward her living room, which was still out of everyone else's line of sight. “Janice? Did you hear any of that?”

Mary thought she heard a female voice reply in the negative, although for all she knew, Ashley was doing it herself somehow.

“It's getting dangerous here. Everything's shaking,” Ashley called back. “My – my friend is telling me I should leave, but I don't want to let you go!”

“Less than a minute,” Dr. Bishop said. “Peter, Olivia, we have to get everyone out of here.”

“Oh no, you too?” the strange voice was saying. “Wait, how is that possible? They can't put you under quarantine, you're dead! Aren't you safe from that now?”

Ashley stilled. She turned back around to the agents waiting at her door, a terrible look on her face, and then turned away again. “No, Janice. I'm not dead. What do you mean, quarantine?”

Mary spoke again. “Ashley. I don't know what's going on anymore than you do, but this has to stop. It's not safe for you or anyone here. You can't cling to the past.”

“That's what your being here is all about,” Marshall added. “A brand new life.”

There was some sort of response from inside, something more about this “quarantine”, Mary thought, but Ashley shook her head and put a hand to her mouth. Then she took a deep breath and spoke again, still facing the inside of her apartment. “Janice. I'm sorry, but you... you can't be my sister. I'm not yours. I'm not dead. I don't know what you're talking about.” She swallowed, wiping tears from her face. “Goodbye.”

More suddenly than Mary would have thought possible, the shaking stopped. The electricity now seemed back to normal as well. She looked at Marshall, and then at the Fringe team. Before she could comment, though, Ashley started to close her door. “Ashley, wait!” She put her hand on it again, meeting the young woman's tear-stained gaze. “Look, you won't hear me saying this kind of thing very often, but it's a brave thing you're doing. And you know, just surviving is sticking it to the bastards who killed your sister. Your real sister, I mean.” She almost rolled her eyes at the necessity of that addition.

Ashley nodded. “I know that. I just thought... I thought it was a miracle, I guess.”

“Well, even though it turned out differently than you'd imagined, it was still a chance most of us never get to have,” Dunham said quietly, with a faint smile.

“Yeah,” Ashley said. She sniffed. “Okay. Well, um, thanks. Sorry for... throwing you guys out of my house.”

Dunham's smile grew. “We've all had worse, believe me. Good luck in your new life, Ms. Stuart.”

Peter nodded. “And that is a chance not everyone gets either.”

Mary sighed and elbowed Marshall. “Jesus, it's like you're contagious.”

“Are you ill, Inspector?” Dr. Bishop asked, brow furrowing.

“Only if you view hope as a sickness,” Marshall said, glancing at Mary through narrowed eyes before turning back to Ashley. “In any case, call us whenever you need us, Ashley.”

“Good night,” she said. “Thank you.”

The door closed, and there was a pause before they all started to move toward the exit. Mary stopped with a moan. “Oh, God. Stan better not expect a report on this.”

“He probably will,” Marshall noted. “And it's not like you'll be writing it, anyway.”

“But I do at least have to put my name on it,” Mary said. “I hope no one but Stan ever sees it.”

“Speaking of reports,” Dunham offered, “don't worry about what I say in mine. I'm sure between your boss and ours, we can come to an agreement about what kinds of details can be left out for the safety of Ms. Stuart and your continuing cover.”

“Good,” Mary said. They made it outside, and she crossed her arms. “Seriously, though, you guys do this kind of thing every day?”

“Not every day,” Peter said. He was carrying some of the equipment that he and his father had set up.

“Sometimes we have to wait a few days,” Dr. Bishop added, “until there's something interesting enough for us.”

Peter laughed. “Interesting is one word for it.” He nodded toward his father and took out his phone. “You want to let Astrid know everything's okay? She's probably worried. Wouldn't want her thinking we had to... use the other option.”

“Oh yes,” Dr. Bishop agreed. He set down the machine he was carrying, then dialed and held the phone up to his ear. “Astrid? Yes, everyone is all right. I believe we can safely say the crisis is averted.” He continued to talk for a few more moments, then hung up with some urgency. “Peter, Astrid says she's going to go grocery shopping and perhaps bake something. We must get back to the lab as soon as possible.”

“Sounds like it,” Dunham said, amused. “I'll update Broyles before we head out.”

Marshall spoke up. “If you have the time, Inspector Shannon and I would love to take you all out for dinner before your flight. There are some excellent restaurants in the area.” He seemed to be studiously ignoring his partner's unenthusiastic response to the invitation.

“You may not know what you're getting yourselves into, taking my father out to a restaurant,” Peter replied. Then he turned to Agent Dunham. “Do we have time, Olivia?”

She took out her phone. “Let me see what Broyles has to say. I don't have any pressing reason for us to get back – unless Walter can't wait for whatever Astrid is making.”

“I imagine it will keep,” said Dr. Bishop.

“See, I told you, he'll never turn down food,” said Peter. “The more immediate, the better.”

Agent Dunham made her phone call, and returned with the news: Agent Broyles wanted them back as soon as possible. “I guess we'll have to take a rain check.”

“Too bad,” Mary said unconvincingly. At Marshall's glare, she relented a bit. “If you do ever find yourselves in Albuquerque again, fine, you can look us up. But in terms of your job? I kind of hope you don't need to come here again.”

“I know what you mean,” Peter said. “I can't exactly say it's all been a pleasure.”

Mary nodded. “Yeah.”

“But thanks for your help,” Marshall said. “I'd really like to know the details of what happened, but it in the absence of that possibility, we do appreciate your coming.”

“Thanks for calling us in,” Agent Dunham said. “And you can count on our discretion about anything we learned here today.”

“Same,” said Mary. She was, in fact, sure that she would be doing her best to forget anything she had 'learned' during this completely stark-raving insane day.

“Well, okay,” Dunham said, after a moment. “Goodbye, Inspectors.”

“Safe trip,” Mary said.

“Good luck to you all,” Marshall added. “It seems like you might especially need it, in your specific line of work within the Bureau.”

Peter and Dunham thanked him, and Dr. Bishop wished them farewell, too. As they headed toward the team's rental, Mary could hear the scientist ask his son if they could get a milkshake at a drive-through on the way to the airport. His answer was cut off by them entering the car, but the younger man's tone was much more patient than Mary could imagine responding to such a request from a grown man.

She turned to her partner as the Fringe team drove off. “Marshall. Did that actually happen?”

“As opposed to us both sharing a complicated hallucination about the boundaries between universes collapsing due to your witness' inability to move on after losing her sister? Would you prefer that?”

She shook her head. “I guess not, but that's only because I don't think I want to be sharing anything your mind dreams up.”

He rolled his eyes. “Hmph. Good point. The feeling's mutual.” He dodged her fist in response. “But in all seriousness, doesn't it intrigue you even a little to imagine that there is much out there we can't possibly understand?”

She pondered this for a bit as they started toward their own vehicle. “So basically, you're saying 'the truth is out there' and you like that?”

He giggled. “That is surprisingly well-put, Inspector Mary 'I claim I'm not a nerd but that's two X-Files references in one day' Shannon.”

Mary punched him, this time successfully. “Shut it, Marshall. You bring that up again, there won't be a new identity good enough to keep me from tracking you down and making your death very painful..”

“Ah, Mary, you just keep unfolding like a flower,” was his response. “And yes, that was an X-Files reference of my own.” He dashed into the driver's seat and slammed the door before she could reach him.


End file.
